


Broken behind Rose Coloured Glasses

by Raisedwolfstar



Series: Colored Glasses [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Sirius Black as Padfoot, but it's fine cause we free him, sirius does go to azkaban though, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisedwolfstar/pseuds/Raisedwolfstar
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Potter are proud to say that they were perfectly happy. Why wouldn't they be? By all accounts, they were ordinary people living ordinary lives. Life, though, seems to have other plans, rushing in and putting them right back into the mess they had just escaped.This is a rewrite of the Harry Potter series if I had been able to form coherent thoughts when it was first written. Please keep in mind that I wrote this in 2007 and it was written under a different account/had my actual name attached to it so if you think this is someone else's fic, you probably read this one under my other account.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & James Potter, Sirius Black & Hermione Granger, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Colored Glasses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169480
Kudos: 11





	1. Ch.1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: These characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made off of this fic, it is merely for my and other's enjoyment. Unless stated otherwise, everything but specific plots belong to her.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter are proud to say that they were perfectly happy. They are the last people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they had a small son to think of, what mystery would they want besides the mysterious stains appearing on the boy’s shirts.

James Potter was a young man who came from money. You wouldn't know it from how he acted but James had enough money to ensure neither he nor his wife had to work a day in their lives, though that didn’t stop them from doing so. At 23-years-old there wasn’t much else for them to do otherwise. 

Lily Evans-Potter was a fierce woman when crossed but her true nature was rather benevolent. She spoke in a kind tone to whoever she crossed paths with, always trying to teach her son, Harry, the kind of person he should strive to be.

Harry Potter was a light in his parents’ eyes. Though they were young, they raised Harry in a way that ensured he would never take for granted what he had.   
The Potters had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. The Potters were dead. 

Or so everyone they used to know thought. 

You see, the Potters were what most would call “magical”. They could wash dishes with the flick of a wrist and open doors without even so much as a touch to the handle. A dark cloud hanging over their wizarding world threatened their family and that just would not do. Those around them thought them to be ordinary but one look inside showed a world they had locked away and hoped to escape. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Potter woke up on the bright, clear Tuesday in which our story begins, there was nothing about the clear blue sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon happen across them. Mr. Potter hummed as he picked out his brightest tie for work, and Mrs. Potter quietly read a book to young Harry as he giggled away in his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half-past eight, Mr. Potter picked up the morning paper, pecked Mrs. Potter on the cheek, and tried to kiss Harry good-bye but was met with a hand tugging at his Harry like usual, because Harry was completely enamored with the hair the two of them seemed to share. “Little tyke,” chuckled Mr. Potter as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of the drive.

It was only when he reached the end of the street that he noticed a cat sitting in his back seat. For a second, Mr. Potter didn’t realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. Nothing there. He must not have gotten enough sleep last night. As he drove to work he thought of nothing but the film he would be enjoying with his family later that evening. 

All thoughts of evening movies with family were driven out of his head when he noticed another cat — no it’s the same cat, it had to be. There, sitting in the very spot James parked in every morning was the cat he had seen in the back seat. A tabby cat standing in the middle of the parking spot, completely ordinary. Mr. Potter knew otherwise. 

Attempting to ignore the cat, Mr. Potter merely parked across the street and went straight to work. He sat at his desk and wrote up reports, spoke to some of his friends at work, and enjoyed a cup of coffee midday. If he hadn’t been so stubborn in his attempts at ignoring the cat, he would have seen it sitting directly outside the window staring in from its place on the ledge. 

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime when he thought he’d stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. Having forgotten the cat incident already, Mr. Potter waved at the elderly woman who always asked for a kiss when she saw him, mistaking him for her son.

Reaching into the bag containing his lunch, Mr. Potter tuned his ears to the odd conversations going on around him. He chuckled quietly at the children sitting behind him, whispering about snatching a few coins from their parents for the arcade, and quickly turned red as he heard two young girls talking about him. Quickly moving on to save himself the embarrassment, Mr. Potter focuses on two older men as he finishes his bun. 

“Black gets what he deserves—”

“— heard he’s gone crazy in there, don’t doubt it—”

James froze. Fear flooded his mind. Looking back, he seemed to want to say something to the two men but thought better of it. No, he was just paranoid. There were plenty of people with the last name Black and he hadn’t even heard the rest of the conversation. No need to jump to conclusions. 

James quickly walked back across the street and almost made it inside but not before seeing that cat again. That was the last straw. The cat stared him down, willing him to accept what he already knew to be true.

Quickly, he ran to his car and opened the back door, waiting for the cat to climb in. He ran back inside the building, quickly making up some excuse involving Harry and a toothache, and ran back out. Racing back home, James was near frantic, understanding exactly what this meant. 

They had been found out. Whether this was good news or bad was soon to be known, but whatever it was, their little paradise was broken. 

Halfway home, James looked back at the cat to make sure it was still there, and in its place sat an aging, thin woman with cat-like features. 

“Mr. Potter, afternoon. I would say I’m happy to see you but considering the circumstances we are meeting under, I will forgo doing so,” the woman said in her Scottish drawl. Though her words and tone didn’t show it, the woman was clearly relieved to see him.

“Professor McGonagall, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you today. Or at any point in the next few years if I’m being frank,” James said, shifting his focus back to the road. He could sense her staring at him, her gazing digging a hole in the back of his head, but he didn’t dare look at her again. Not even a gaze in the rearview mirror. 

As the pair pulled into the driveway the first thing he saw — and it didn’t help his overthinking — was a man in old, ragged, torn, clothing. James immediately recognized him, happy to see his old friend even with such circumstances. 

“Moony!” said James, loudly.

The tall man gave him a stern look before walking up to him and accepting the offered hug from James. Something big had happened. Remus wouldn’t be here if something hadn’t. 

The two newcomers shared a look and turned towards the house, asking to go inside. James quickly led the way, stopping briefly to grab the mail before opening the door to the cozy home. 

“James?” called Lily from the kitchen. “Is that you darling? What are you doing home so early, we weren’t expecting you home until the evening. Am I forgetting something Harry?”

“Yes, it’s me. You haven’t forgotten anything, heavens know I wouldn’t let you forget it if you had. I have some… guests with me though.” James answers, leading the other two into the living room. 

As Mrs. Potter came into the room with her son trailing behind her, she gasped at the sight of the guests in her living room. Young Harry immediately interpreted the sound to mean danger and hid behind his mother’s legs, peeking out to glance at the two strangers in the house. 

“Professor? Remus? What are you doing here? Does anyone else know we’re here?” Lily says, her voice gaining in pitch. 

“No, the two of us are the only—” Remus is cut off as Harry ran out from behind his mother and launched himself into the man’s arms. He immediately wraps his arms around the child, looking up at his two friends to make sure he’s not doing something wrong. 

The young couple spares a glance at each other before smiling at Remus. Surely he must know he is always allowed to enjoy Harry’s energetic company. Doesn’t he?

“Moony, I miss you,” Harry says, nudging his head under Remus’ chin. Remus smiles down at the boy, thinking back to the year he spent with him before everything went wrong. The child spends a few minutes hugging the tall man before pushing his way out of his grip and running off in search of a toy to show off. 

McGonagall turns away from the pair and faces back towards the couple.

“While Mr. Lupin attends to young Mister Potter, I would like to speak to you both. It seems as though Mr. Black is trying to—”

“Regulus? What has he done?” James says, furrowing his eyebrows in questioning. McGonagall looks up in surprise, trying but failing to hide it. 

“Regulus Black? No, the younger Mr. Black is dead. I thought you would have known that, seeing as it happened before… everything else,” the professor says, a lapse of silence following her words, only broken by Harry’s babbling as he darts back into the room. “I am talking about Sirius. He was caught attempting to escape Azkaban, though his attempt was thwarted by the Dementors.”

As his former professor continues to speak, James stares at her, wide-eyed and confused. 

“— I can assure you though, that no one knows of your location but the two of us. Not even Dumbledore—” 

“I’m sorry but did you say Sirius was in Azkaban?” 

“Well yes, of course. We did not stop searching until we found the man. I only wish I had been able to tell you sooner but we could not—” McGonagall says. 

“What the bloody hell is he doing in Azkaban? Where is Pettigrew?” James shouts, jumping from his place next to his wife.

“Mr. Potter, Peter Pettigrew is dead. Black killed him after Voldemort’s death. We caught laughing, covered in blood with only Peter’s finger left of the poor man.”

James starts laughing, almost maniacally, much to the horror of his friend and professor. Lily looks at McGonagall, shaking her head. She stands and puts her hand on her 

“Bloody Pettigrew isn’t dead. That rat was the traitor. If he died, it wasn’t at the hands of Sirius. Merlin only knows the death eaters would have gotten to him first. Where’s Dumbledore? He knew that Peter was our secret keeper.”

By this point, James is near frantic, eyes wide and hair disheveled from running his hands through it. He spares a glance at Remus, knowing exactly how close the two were and is met with a man who looks like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry.

“Mr. Potter, are you trying to tell us that Sirius is innocent? We put an innocent man in Azkaban?” 

As if the conversation was just registering in his head, Harry looks up from the pile of toys he was trying to show Remus. “Pa-foo?” he says, a grin making its way on his face as he looks around the room for his godfather.

“Oh dear, this needs to be settled immediately, if not for Sirius then for this little tyke.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been 5 years and the Potter family is finally going to get their Padfoot back.

Nearly five years had passed since the Potters had their days disrupted by their former professor and friend and their lives had changed completely once again. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number plate on the Potter’s front door; it crept into their living room, which seemed to always stand host to any number of Ministry of Magic workers. 

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Five years ago, there had been lots of pictures of a skinny baby, always seen wearing different-colored knit sweaters two sizes too big — but Harry Potter was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a tall boy riding his first broom, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all of the chaos outside of this quaint little cottage. Yet there was always a different type of chaos to be found. Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His father was awake and it was his thunderous footsteps that made the first noise of the day.

“Up! Get up! Today’s the day!” 

Harry woke with a start. His dad rapped on the door again.

“It’s my son’s birthday and I get to see my best mate again!” he laughed out.   
Harry heard him walking toward the main bedroom and then the sound of the door shutting down the hall. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one.

His dad was back outside the door.

“Are you up yet?” he asked like a child on Christmas day.

“Nearly,” said Harry.

“Well, get a move on, I want to give you your gifts before we head out for the day. I want everything perfect today.”

July 31st — how could he have forgotten that the day his godfather was released it was also his birthday? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling one off the bristles of his broom, put them on. Harry was a messy child and that was how it would always be, no matter how much his mom didn’t like it.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of the food his parents had made for the extra special day. It looked as though the Queen herself was going to be in attendance for their lunch. Exactly why they had made so much food was a mystery to Harry, as it wasn’t like there would be very many people eating.   
Harry had only known Sirius through all of the stories his mum and dad had told him but apparently, they had spent over a year together, getting into as much mischief as a baby and a 20-year-old could get into. Harry didn’t know it, but he and his godfather had been the best of friends in that time. Perhaps it had something to do with how close Sirius had been to James before everything or perhaps it was because Harry reminded Sirius of a brother he thought he had lost ages before. 

Harry was tall for his age and skinnier, almost exactly like Regulus Black had been when he was Harry’s current age and with Harry's dark hair as a baby, he could easily be mistaken for a Black. The only reason anyone would doubt that Harry was a Black was his dark skin and bright green eyes. Thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times he fell off of his broom. 

The only thing Harry didn’t like about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking was how he had gotten it.

“A horrible man gave you this scar when you were very young, sweetheart,” his mum had said. “We’ll tell you more about it when you grow older.”

Harry entered the kitchen as his mum was turning over the bacon. 

“Comb your hair,” she said with a light chuckle, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Lily Potter looked over at her son and sighed, resignedly telling him he needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place.

Once, tired of Harry getting food and candy stuck in his hair, Lily had taken a pair of scissors and cut his hair short. Harry was as distraught as a four year old could be over hair. He was worried that his hair no longer looked as wild as his dad’s, though after a few minutes of television, he quickly forgot about it. 

The next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been. He began clapping to himself as he sat up in his bed until his parents came in the room to see what the noise was all about. James had laughed himself silly at this, even though neither he nor Lily could hide the fear for his safety that came with accidental magic. 

Their fears were confirmed when, just three years later, he’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. A gang of his had been chasing him in a game of tag when, as much to Harry’s surprise as anyone else’s, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Potter’s had received a very angry letter from Harry’s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he whined over Lily’s incessant worrying) was hide behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. 

His mum was frying eggs by the time James walked back into the kitchen newspaper tucked under his arm. Harry looked a lot like his dad, though the older man was built a bit burlier due to his time as a Chaser. He had a prominent jaw that was softened by the unruly mess that rivaled even Harry’s hair, and though he had glasses similar to Harry, his eyes were a soft hazel color. Lily Potter often told Harry that, had James’ eyes been a different color, she never would have gotten close to him. His eyes, she claimed, were the only soft things about him, his emboldened ego never softening when she was around him in school.

“Good morning darling,” James said as he placed a kiss on her head, “Mornin’ troublemaker.”

Harry scowled as his dad put his hand on his head messed it up.

“Dad, when are we going to leave?” Harry asked, patting his hair down in a desperate attempt to fix the mess.

“Don’t worry about that, enjoy your birthday breakfast. Moony will be around soon to apparate with us.” his mum answered, placing a plate in front of his.

James, sitting across from the empty seat next to Harry, seemed to be vibrating with excitement.

“Oh I can’t wait to see padfoot. Oh he’s probably going to be shocked at how much the little baby he last saw has grown,” he says as Harry groans at the mention of him as a baby. “Well he’s definitely going to be shocked at the sight of us.”

Lily gasps from beside him, turning to face him saying, “James did you really not have someone tell him we’re not actually dead?”

“Was I supposed to? Lily it’s been 5 years since we started trying to get my brother out of that hell hole. Honestly, I think just the fact that he’s being let out at all was a shock to him. You and I know the ministry never would have thought to check if something was amiss if we had actually died.”

“You nit-wit, you’re going to give him a heart attack like that. The poor man isn’t going to be able to think, let alone say anything to you.”

James looks down, cheeks changing to a pink color as guilt fills his features. Harry began to quickly shove bacon in his mouth to avoid laughing. The way his mum insulted his dad always made him laugh as he knew she loved how dim-witted he could be in certain situations.

Just then, the doorbell rang —“Oh, good, Moony’s here!” Lily said with a clap of her hands — and a moment later, James’ other best friend, Remus Lupin, walked in. Remus was a tall man with light brown hair flecked with gray, though he is quite young. He looked ill and exhausted which could be attributed to the full moon two nights ago. He was usually the one who helped Lily when her husband was being irrational. 

“Morning Lily, James,” he said in greeting as he stepped around towards the empty seat next to Harry. “Happy birthday Prongslet.” 

Remus sat down in his usual chair, this time though, he moved it one space over to make room for their guest who would be coming back with them later. As the group ate, in the back of all of their minds was worry about how this day would go. 

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn’t believe his luck, was sitting in the sidecar of Sirius’ motorcycle with James driving, on the way to the docks that would greet Sirius as he came back from Azkaban. It had taken a good amount of convincing but Harry and James had finally worn down his mum’s decision to not let him ride the motorcycle but before they’d left, she had taken Harry aside and had given him a list of her rules.

“Harry James Potter, If I see so much as one strand of hair come out from underneath this helmet—”she says tightly strapping the helmet onto Harry’s hair.

“Mummmm” Harry groans, pushing her hands away.

Lily gave him a look that said more than anything she could have said to him. As if to tell him she would see if he did anything she didn’t like.

Lily and Remus would be following close behind on brooms, though Remus wasn't very happy about that. Flying had never been his strong suit, even after he formed a close bond with the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and one of the team's beaters. 

“Right, let’s get a move on. Can’t have Padfoot waiting for us, even if he doesn’t know we’re going to be there.” James says, climbing into the bike.

While he drove, his dad talked to him about his time spent at Hogwarts. These stories were always about a multitude of things: pranks, Sirius, Quidditch, Sirius, full moon’s with Remus, and Sirius were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was Lily. 

“... but your mum would not give me the time of day for years. I wrote her poems,—” he said, sparing a glance at Harry in the side mirror.

“Wait, you wrote mum poems? What about?” Harry asked, suddenly interested in the story. “Do you still have them? Can I see them?”

James nearly crashed into a bird in front. He turned slightly in his seat and looked at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet, “No, I don’t have them, no you can’t see them, and her hair mostly”

Harry sniggered. 

“So Remus has them?,” said Harry. “Or did mum keep them?” 

James once again changed shades, if that was even possible, but this time he did not dignify a response to his son.

The rest of the flight to the meeting space was relatively quiet, James avoiding subjects that could potentially bring him any embarrassment. Instead, he began to talk about Sirius. 

“Your godfather is my brother. We were so attached at the hip that if I hadn’t asked your mother out so many times and Sirius hadn’t been with Remus, all of Hogwarts would have thought we were together instead,” James said with a chuckle. 

“Dad? How come it took so long to get him out of this place? Why was he in there in the first place?” 

James sighed. “Harry, in this world there are some people who care about themselves more than they do others. The people in charge of getting Sirius out of Azkaban are like those people, and while many of the people you meet won’t be like that, many will be. You will need to be patient.” 

Harry sat quietly after that, running his dad’s words through his head. Why did people care about themselves so much. It’s much more fun to think about other people. Harry did it all the time. Just the other day he was thinking about how funny it would be to see his school teacher wearing an old ladies dress and when he told his friends about it, they had a good laugh together. 

What’s the fun in thinking about yourself like that? That’s just embarrassing. Well, maybe it wasn’t if a lot of people thought of themselves more than other people.

Harry shut his eyes and tried to imagine himself in a funny situation but it wasn’t as funny as imagining a large, gorilla-like man dressed in his neighbor’s nightgown.

Harry was so preoccupied with his thought that he hadn’t noticed they had arrived until the motorcycle had touched down. Before any of the adults could stop him, Harry made a beeline towards the doors of the facility where Sirius would be brought to from Azkaban. As he arrived in the room with Sirius Black written in glimmering letters across the door, Harry skidded to a stop, Lily not far behind him.

“Harry! What did I tell you about staying close to—” Lily started as Harry gently pushed open the doors, stepping inside carefully like the floor might give out below him. 

It was finally here. Since he could remember he’s heard about Sirius. Padfoot. His godfather. Harry couldn’t remember the man but he felt like he knew him. 

Sirius had bought him his first broom before he was even a year old. Padfoot had been Harry’s first word, much to James’ disappointment. Even without any memories of the man, he knew they shared a bond that would be hard pressed to break. He could feel it in his core, just as he knew he was the son of James and Lily Potter.

The day the Ministry of Magic had told them Sirius would be released on Harry’s birthday was probably the happiest day the family had had since the faithful night they had been forced into hiding. James had fallen to the floor in a fit of tears, the relief evident in his voice as he thanked the man a few minutes later. 

As James and Remus finally caught up to them Harry turned to face a wall of glass, knowing immediately that this was the window the Minister had told them would be one sided until the door in the middle of the wall was opened. 

The adults in the room took their seats on the benches in the middle of the room while Harry plastered himself to the glass, staring intently at the fog surrounding the dock he knew was there. He willed someone to appear out of the fog, anyone, so he could know that he was that much closer to seeing the man he couldn’t remember seeing. 

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours and soon the group had been waiting for over three hours.

“This is bloody ridiculous. Why tell us to get here at a specific time when you’re just going to make us wait. We’ve bee—” James said, running his hand through his hair in anger.

All of a sudden Harry shot up from the place he had taken on the floor by the wall. “There! Someone’s coming.”

The trio all rose as soon as the words left his mouth and walked to the window. In that moment a thin man in gray clothing appeared from behind the fog, his wrists at his front in shackles. A man in uniform stopped him from moving forward and unlocked the chains, letting them drop to the floor. The long-haired man rubbed at his wrist and looked up, seemingly meeting HArry’s eyes from behind the glass, though that was impossible. 

A gasp came from beside Harry and he turned to see his mother with her hands over her mouth, eyes shut and head tucked into his dad’s shoulder. Harry turned around to try and see what had pulled such a reaction from her when he noticed Sirius’ bloodshot eyes and the tears steadily streaming down his face. It was in that moment that Harry remembered that his godfather didn’t know that any of them had survived. No one had told him that his family was still alive. 

In the moment of this realization he didn’t notice the guard had reached the door with Sirius and opened the door. The newly freed man stepped inside the room with his head down, barely putting one foot in front of the other. From up close Harry could now see exactly what Azkaban had done to him and the gray shirt that hung off his bones looked similar to a gown and his face was gaunt and grey. 

Harry sucked in a breath, almost afraid of the man. That wasn’t true. He wasn’t afraid of the man, he was afraid for him. 

Sirius, having expected to walk into an empty room, shot his head up at the noise Harry made. No one moved for a minute as new tears filled his face. The group of four waiting to greet him made no move to get close Sirius and he, likewise, did not move an inch. 

“P-Padfoot?” Harry tried.

The man let out a wail and fell to the floor in front of Harry, arms wrapping around himself. He rocked back and forth on his knees, whimpering as he did so. 

“You’re dead, I’m being tortured. He killed you and I’ll never see you again. You’re dead.” He repeated as he looked up again.

James’ face fell as he realized that the man wouldn’t believe they were there unless someone touched him. He made a move to get close but Remus rushed over to the man and took him into his arms. Muttering calming words to him, Remus eventually brought Sirius’ cries down to sniffles. 

Walking over to him, Lily put her hands on his boney shoulder and said, “Siri, it’s us.” 

Sirius whimpered and grabbed her hand. 

“Lily? James?” He said, looking to both of them. “Prongslet?”


End file.
